


Just Me, You and the Mountains

by johnlockandthorki



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Flirting, Hand Jobs, Holiday, Kissing, M/M, Scotland, Secrets, Sex, Shower Sex, Suspicion, cabin in the mountains, cabin in the woods, car journey, drugged, fantasies, isolated from civilisation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-10 14:59:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/787346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnlockandthorki/pseuds/johnlockandthorki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is in great need of a holiday, so he books a little cabin up in Scotland.  John doesn't know, until it's too late.  John has many fantasies, but little does he know, so does Sherlock. And neither of them would have thought this would have happened</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The vanilla tea

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own any of the characters

“Jesus Christ, Sherlock! What the hell is in the fridge this – you know what? I don’t want to know.”

John slammed the fridge door on the decaying body parts, his craving for a peanut butter and banana toasted sandwich completely gone. He walked over to his chair and opened up his laptop. The friendly tone of the log in page had been changed once a long time ago, and it had become a regular thing since then, when Sherlock had hacked into John’s laptop because it was, and I quote, “easier than getting mine”.

This time it was the sound of a violin and John recognised it immediately. It was one of Sherlock’s best compositions. It was haunting and yet romantic as well as being sad at the same time. Whenever John thought of or heard this particular tune he always envisioned their first cases, during which Sherlock composed this particular piece of music.

Sherlock had given it a ridiculous name like ‘The Blood Through the Veins’ but John secretly called it ‘The Beginning’ because it reminded him of his first few months with Sherlock.

Sherlock chuckled and piped up that he was brewing the kettle and did John want one? This dragged John away from his memories because Sherlock NEVER made a cuppa. NEVER.

“Wha-“ John cleared his throat, “What is your reasoning for this sudden human emotion? And yes please. But no milk this time, I don’t want to know what’s in there if there are ears in the peanut butter.”

“There has always been human emotion in me, John. It’s just tiring to show it all the time.” Although John couldn’t actually see Sherlock, John could hear the smile in Sherlock’s voice and could picture the way he rolled his eyes.

Sherlock, brought the cuppa through and John sipped it tentatively. Sherlock laughed, it was a beautiful laugh, all deep and baritone-y. John nearly choked on his tea, to which Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

“Hotter than I expected.” John lied. Sort of.

The real truth was that John was shocked at himself ‘Did I honestly just think that?! About Sherlock? Really, John?  
John took another sip from the cup. It was actually rather nice. Another sip changed his opinion on the hot beverage. It was heavenly! There was something else in the drink that masked the bitterness of black tea. John stopped drinking immediately.

“What else is in this drink other than a tea bag, boiling water and sugar? Sherlock?” John was thinking what it could be and what Sherlock’s reasons were for the drink’s additives.

Sherlock looked hurt at John’s accusation. “It is just a vanilla tea that I borrowed from Mrs Hudson. If you don’t believe me, which I know you don’t, you can ask her, she will even verify it was just as I was coming in from Scotland Yard and I bumped into her. I accidentally knocked the shopping out of her hand and it spilled out. I helped pick it up and she said I could try the tea and see whether I liked it. I can only presume she forgot that I can’t stand vanilla.”

John finished the cup of tea and pottered on the blog for a while and then called out that he was going to thank Mrs Hudson for the tea bags.

He floated down the stairs and knocked on Mrs Hudson’s door. After a pleasant conversation with Mrs Hudson and quite a few too many of her infamous jam doughnut muffins John walked back upstairs. No, correction, John floated up stairs.


	2. Tea and Cakes

As John entered the flat, Sherlock was busy in the kitchen.

John called through “Can you make ma another cup of the vanilla tea? It was really nice. Oh, and Mrs Hudson is glad your case is over. She says ‘Another mad man off the streets of London thanks to Sherlock Holmes and his brilliant mind.’ Or something like that.”

He plonked himself on the sofa and curled his legs up beneath him. He was getting rather tired quite quickly. It was probably due to the case they were working on. Sherlock wasn’t sleeping, and if Sherlock didn’t sleep, John wasn’t allowed to either.

Sherlock came through with another cuppa and two Eccles cakes on the side. John smiled at the cakes, then at the raven-haired man who towered above him. He ate the cakes between sips of the delicious beverage. Once the cakes were gone, John yawned for a long time. He downed his tea and told Sherlock that he was going to bed.

“See you in the morning, John. Have a good night. I won’t play my violin tonight, as to not disturb you.” Sherlock said back.

A thought occurred to John as he was halfway up the stairs to his bedroom: ‘Sherlock’s being surprisingly kind. There is probably a nasty experiment imminent. I hope it doesn’t involve the decomposition of human flesh in stomach acids again!’

John got rid of his jumper before he reached his room, then removed his shoes, socks and jeans before heading to the bathroom to relieve himself and brush his teeth. The menial tasks finished, he clambered into bed and started to drift off. Before he succumbed to unconsciousness he thought he saw his suitcase in the corner, open, full of his clothes. ‘Hmmm, must be imagining things I’m that tired.’ Then the blackness welcomed him.

John was rudely awakened by his alarm and somebody turning the lights on. And off. And on. And off. ‘Curious’ The more John thought about it, and the more times the lights were turned on and off, he realised that that wasn’t his alarm. John snapped open his eyes.

They were in a car.

It was 5am.

He didn’t know where he was.

The handsome man from the dream John couldn’t remember, thankfully, was driving.

“Morning, sleeping beauty!” Sherlock was far too happy for John’s liking.

John was pissed off. Sherlock had drugged him no doubt, which meant that he had tricked John and lied to him about the tea or the biscuits. Sherlock was taking him somewhere that John couldn’t figure out at that moment in time. And Sherlock was smiling as if it was normal!


	3. Welcome to Scotland

“What’s wrong, doctor? You look puzzled.” Sherlock said innocently.

“Do you really want to know what’s wrong with me?! I’m surprised that genius mind of yours hasn’t already figured it out! I’ll tell you what is bothering me: The fact that I was drugged and the fact that you are taking me someplace unbeknownst to me in the middle of the night!” John exploded, absolutely fuming.

“Now that you have gotten that out of your system, do you want to know where we are going and why?”

“No. I’d rather be lead into the unknown by someone whose sanity I am rapidly beginning to doubt!” John exclaimed in the most sarcastic tone he could manage.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and let John sit and calm down for a moment. Sherlock predicted that John would speak up in about 1 minute and 54 seconds. 2 minutes and 17 seconds later John sighed. John really must have been angry about this for him to have waited another 23 seconds before he made any movement.

“Sherlock.” The detective looked at him “Sherlock, where are we going?”

Sherlock decided for 4 seconds about how to phrase it. “We, John, are going on a short holiday. I – I mean, we – haven’t been getting many cases recently, and Mrs Hudson, Lestrade and you have been worried about my boredom and what, specifically who, my boredom will cause damage to. Lestrade said that he will look after things down at Scotland Yard while I’m away. Mrs Hudson said that she would think it best for me, you and her furniture if I took a little break. So, that leads me on to your question, John: where are we going? We are going to Loch Lomond. Specifically, we will be staying in a little cabin near the Loch and as far from civilisation as we can.”

“You could’ve just told me, there was no need to dru- wait. Did you just say Loch Lomond? I love that place! I haven’t been there since university…” John trailed off and turned a slight shade of pink around his cheeks. Embarrassment, Sherlock deduced.

“I knew that!” At John’s startled look, Sherlock continued “You told me once when you were drunk. About how you went there as a kid and loved it ever since but you hate how now you can’t visit as often as you like because of the army and now assisting me…does this ring any bells?”

John nodded “Yeah, yeah.” Thank God he hadn’t accidentally told Sherlock what happened at uni. He would never be able to live it down. Even though Sherlock is really good at keeping secrets, if Sherlock knew about that week in uni, then Sherlock could deduce, and then Sherlock would know, leading to Sherlock either moving out or asking John to move out, because there is no way that man, that gorgeous man, could ever feel the same way John feels.

John slept again. This time he remembered the dream. It was him and Sherlock again.  
They had just been on a case that caused the two of them to be separated during a case and both men were worried and panicked because they couldn’t find each other and there was a mad man running round the alleys with a gun. John had heard a gunshot and heard a shout that sounded a lot like Sherlock’s. John ran around the labyrinth that was the backstreets of London with no regard for his own safety. He was not going to lose Sherlock again. He rounded the corner and stopped as he saw a man lying crumpled on the floor and a man stood above him. The light was terrible and John swore it was Sherlock on the floor. But the man stood up straightened up and stood towards the light. The man was tall and lean, with curly raven hair and the bluest of eyes John ever could remember seeing. It was Sherlock, he was okay! John ran forward and embraced the man in the tightest hug he could manage.

To his surprise, Sherlock hugged him back just as hard, until soon they both had to let go in order to breathe.

Sherlock took John’s hand and sort of skipped back to Lestrade and (urgh) Anderson and the rest of the police department. After Sherlock described what had happened to Lestrade completely ignoring Anderson, they were allowed to go home. 

The taxi Lestrade had hailed pulled up outside 221B Baker Street and John’s arm was nearly ripped out of its socket as Sherlock yanked him out the taxi and up the short steps into their flat.  


As soon as the door was shut behind him, John was pulled into a bear hug. “Don’t you dare do that to me again, John Hamish Watson!” John loved it when he used his full name. Sherlock suddenly held him at arm’s length and pulled a face.

“You need a shower, doctor.”

“So do you, detective.”

John went for a shower first and came down in a T-shirt and his favourite tartan boxers and meandered into the kitchen to make a cuppa.

Sherlock was re-reading the most recent violin composition and hadn’t noticed that John had come back downstairs, only heard the noise of the kettle being filled. Sherlock went into the bathroom and had a sufficient shower, even cleaning his hair.

Sherlock dried himself and put the towel around his hips and walked into his room to get changed into his pyjama bottoms. 

He got dressed into his stripy bottoms and draped the towel around his shoulders to catch the falling water drops from his hair, but quickly gave up and towel dried his hair walking out of his bedroom and into the lounge where he sat down on the sofa and picked up his laptop, but putting it down again, not as gently as the battery sign flashed.

He went into the kitchen to make himself a cuppa but stopped when he saw John and his little clothing. He stalked over to where John was getting a new pack of tea bags down from the cupboard, and saw that John’s shirt had ridden up to reveal some of his back and more importantly, that sensitive spot, just…there…

John squirmed and screamed and giggled and dropped the teabags when Sherlock tickled him. He wasn’t expecting that from the detective at all. He turned around to shout at him but was cut off by the look of the taller man. He was stood with a towel around his shoulders, bare chest, apart from the dressing gown that hung on him because he hadn’t been bothered to tie it up, and his pyjama bottoms.

The detective had his eyebrow raised. John knew why, his little moan had been aloud and Sherlock had heard it. The taller man’s eyes drifted down for a brief second at the mug that John was holding, but then John saw it out the corner of his eye, he had dropped it on the counter when Sherlock had tickled him. So what was the detective looking at then?

John looked at where the detectives eyes had been and only saw his boxers; his tented boxers. John was about to explain but was silenced with one smooth motion of the detectives head moving down and lips touching lips for a brief second before Sherlock pulled back, obviously embarrassed and curious.

John just looked at him and couldn’t stop staring. After a moment John brought himself back to reality and leant up on his tiptoes and kissed Sherlock.

Sherlock returned the kiss, quite awkwardly at first (he did say he had never done anything with someone, didn’t he?) but then he got the hang of it and pushed John up against the fridge. John snaked his hands to Sherlock’s lower back; his right hand going up his back and tangling itself into Sherlock’s damp curls while his left hand sneaked downwards and cupped one of his arse cheeks.

Sherlock gasped, allowing John’s tongue access into his mouth, which turned Sherlock’s gasp into a moan. Sherlock’s hand crept their way down past John’s shirt and rested on John’s arse cheeks, but not before giving them a bit of a tweak. John swore that Sherlock had done this before because his tongue was doing things inside his mouth that John could not fathom at this moment in time because WOW! Sherlock had reduced the world to the two of them with a few positions of his tongue and a tweak of John’s arse.

They broke away for some air and John looked at Sherlock’s kiss swollen lips and decided to have a sneak peek at what was going on under Sherlock’s pyjamas and, yes, there definitely was some interest there. John removed the towel from around Sherlock’s shoulders and threw it towards the lounge somewhere and did the same with his dressing gown, whilst Sherlock slowly removed John’s shirt and threw it with his own clothing.

He then stopped, his hands on John’s stomach, as the sudden realisation came to John 'Sherlock hasn’t seen my scar before! Stupid, stupid, stupid!'

But before John could shy away Sherlock bent his neck down and started kissing John’s skin around the scar, nipping with his teeth every now and then causing John to cry out.

John pushed Sherlock back and ground his hips into Sherlock at the same time causing both men to gasp and moan, John did it again and had to stop himself before he collapsed or came, either of which would have been embarrassing.

He felt himself be dragged across to the sofa where Sherlock lay down and pulled John on top of him, and John could feel Sherlock’s erection pressing into his lower stomach and honestly couldn’t judge how big Sherlock was, but thankfully he didn’t have to wait long as Sherlock sat both him and John up and slid off the sofa to kneel at John’s feet.

He slowly removed John’s underwear and threw the tartan briefs towards the ever growing pile of clothes. Sherlock then kissed John’s stomach and hips and the top of his thighs, being careful to avoid the sensitive skin until the very last moment.

Sherlock then moved his hand to grip at the base of John’s arousal and tentatively flicked his tongue against the tip. The noise John made was all the encouragement Sherlock needed before he too John down as far as he could go and John cried out

“JesusfuckingchristSherlock!”

Sherlock slowly removed his mouth and tongue from John’s cock as he looked up through his curls at the sight of the man before him. John recovered quite quickly and pulled Sherlock up and they swapped positions. John removed Sherlock’s pyjamas and threw them at the pile marvelling at the size of the other man.

Sherlock’s arousal was in proportion with his body, long, lean but thicker than John expected. John started by stroking Sherlock a couple of times then recalled what he had been taught by Tim at uni and took Sherlock all the way he could.

John could take a lot, but still had to use his other hand to grip the base of Sherlock.

His head bobbed up and down in Sherlock’s lap for a while before Sherlock was writhing and mumbling under his breath. The only real word John heard from Sherlock was “close”.

John stopped and pulled Sherlock down onto the carpet where they both lay there for a second before John kissed Sherlock and could taste the both of them.

After a minute or so of kissing John’s hand strayed down towards Sherlock’s cock and he closed his hand around him, Sherlock nervously followed but soon lost all nerves and it became the two of them and the movements of their hands and chests.

John heard Sherlock breathe “close” and whispered back “I know. Me, too.”

They both kept going until John could feel the heat at the base of his spine and he felt Sherlock’s hand speed up, as an indication that he, too, was having that feeling and soon John’s name was on Sherlock’s lips and Sherlock’s name was on John’s lips and they both arched their backs as they…


	4. The Infamous Curry

The slamming of a car door woke John up suddenly. Well there goes a perfect ending he thought as the car bounced from the boot shutting. He opened the car door and walked awkwardly to the cabin door and walked to his room, after which Sherlock said he had already claimed it, so John was left on the sofa. Luckily the sofa was a sofa-bed and pulled out into a double bed.

John grabbed his bags from the car and dumped them next to the sofa. He noticed there was a wood fire on one wall of the cabin, with a pile of chopped logs and an axe next to it. He made a mental note to chop more wood that night.

He checked the clock on the wall; it was 17:45. After looking around the food in the cabin, John started to make his infamous curry because he hadn’t eaten all day. As he started to walk to the kitchen he realised that there was added pressure in his jeans. He looked down and, yep, he was hard from that dream. He chuckled to himself and shook his head gently.

“What’s so funny, John?”

John jumped and turned in surprise, but immediately turned back, remembering that Sherlock could see everything in even the shortest amount of time.

“Just making my curry, Sherlock. Want some?”

Instead of replying, Sherlock just walked up behind him and drew a deep breath through his nose, enjoying the smell of curry powder. His stomach rumbled loudly and they both started giggling, laughing harder as Sherlock’s stomach continued to rumble, making the strangest noises John had ever heard from the human body, and that was saying something – he was a doctor.

*****

“Want some?”

Sherlock decided against replying, but instead walked up to behind John and drew a deep breath through his nose, enjoying the smell of John mixed with curry powder. He could have sworn that he saw John with an excess amount of strain in his trousers, in that brief second, but put it down to his mind wandering again.

His stomach rumbled, causing John to laugh his childish giggle, which made Sherlock laugh. The hysterics continued as Sherlock’s stomach continued to rumble.

*****

While the curry was bubbling away nicely, and Sherlock was busy getting things from the car (how long were they staying for again?), John stole away to the bathroom and had a warm shower. He thought of Sherlock, his laugh, his voice ‘GOD! His voice did things to John that he didn’t know could/would happen to him’, his violinist’s fingers, his perfect mouth, and what they could possibly do to help John’s current situation. He slammed his head against the wall as his climax started to approach. He struggled to contain the final moan of Sherlock’s name as he came. He finished off his shower and dried himself fully, and waited till the blush in his cheeks had disappeared and returned to normal before walking out, shouting Sherlock and serving the food.

*****

Sherlock walked in with John’s bags in hand and was confused, at first, as to where his blogger was, until he heard the shower on in the background. He decided to dump John’s bags by his sofa bed and went to his room to sort out the luggage. He passed the bathroom on his way to his room and he thought he could hear John moaning, but, once again, he put it down to the fact that his mind was in the alternative universe where John actually had feelings towards Sherlock.

Neither the detective, nor the blogger had realised just how thin the walls were. As Sherlock was hanging up his plum shirt he heard a hollow thud, then another and another. ‘What could John be doing in there?!’ he thought as his mind raced to the "John: Fantasies" area of his mind palace. He nearly collapsed onto the bed when he heard a guttural moan and his name, with the first syllable being elongated and another short moan.

Sherlock tried to compose himself and counted the minutes until he heard the shower turn off (2.36 minutes) and then counted the time it took for John to leave the bathroom (4.84 minutes, 2.7 minutes longer than normal) before he walked out of the bathroom, still a little pink on the back of his neck. He walked into the kitchen/diner when John called through, saying that the curry was ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long gaps between updates, I am currently doing my exams so am revising like crazy :)  
> Any comments are loved. Thanks to all who have left kudos


	5. Thin Walls

John and Sherlock were leaning against the counter, eating John’s curry (it really was delicious! The best thing Sherlock had had in his life), when a thought occurred to Sherlock. He decided to have fun with this new found knowledge that John had just jerked off and moaned Sherlock’s name. But, what could Sherlock do that wouldn’t allow John to figure out that Sherlock had heard John in the shower?

‘Got it!’ Sherlock’s idea was simple yet brilliant, and he could put it into action as soon as they had finished eating.

*****

‘Sherlock’s got that hatching-a-plan face on.’ John helped himself to another portion of the curry. They talked for a while, until both people had eaten all of the curry. John started to fill the sink full of hot, soapy water, so that he could do the washing up because Sherlock was never going to help him.

But lo and behold, Sherlock rolled up his sleeves and started to dry up the clean dishes, but he was stood closer to John than he normally would. Sherlock bent down to put away the plates, and the trousers that he was wearing (that were ever so slightly too small for him) hugged his arse perfectly and images ran through John’s mind, causing him to blush.

As Sherlock stood straight again, John looked at him through the corner of his eye. Sherlock had his head bent as he dried the pan, and his raven curls drooped in front of his face. Sherlock’s eyes flitted up to look at John, met John’s eyes for a split second and then darted back to the pan. As he focused a little too much on making sure the handle was dry, John noticed Sherlock’s cheeks had tinted slightly pink and John just stared.

*****

John was staring! Sherlock’s plan worked perfectly!

The rest of the night went without a hitch. They sat and watched telly. Well, John attempted to watch it but struggled because Sherlock kept on commenting on the unimportance of the programme and the lack of imagination used for the characters. And every time it looked like John was going to shout at Sherlock, he put on his ‘cutesy-I don’t-mean-to’ face.

At 7pm, Sherlock declared he was going for a shower. He went into the bathroom, turned on the shower, stepped in, and thought about John and how cute he looked when he was pouting in the car on the way up, momentarily forgetting how thin the walls were.

*****

Sherlock walked to the bathroom and John turned the TV off and turned on the radio. He started to fold out his bed and unpack his clothes. Once that was done, John lay back on the bed and drummed the beat of the song against his leg.

After a while, John started thinking about what had happened while him and Sherlock were having the curry and washing up afterwards. Sherlock seemed to have displayed some signs of embarrassment at being caught looking at John, which is very different to the normal Sherlock. He normally loves making people uncomfortable by staring at them with those icy, cold, harsh yet soft, bottomless eyes. But Sherlock was caught merely looking at John out the corner of his eye and he flushed. Sherlock bloody Holmes was blushing for being caught looking at John Watson. John couldn’t figure it out.

That was until John heard noises coming from the direction of the bathroom. The only way John could describe those noises was that they were like whimpers, but baritone, not whiney at all.

John had lived with Sherlock, ‘admired’ Sherlock and gotten to know Sherlock’s lack of boundaries, to know what those noises meant: Sherlock was having a wank in the shower.

John shuddered with the thought of Sherlock doing the exact same thing he had done, no less than an hour ago. John slipped into the well-deserved sleep and dreamed, once again, of the man he could never have, the man who didn’t have the capability to love him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So so so so so so sorry for the long delay in updating, I have had so much going on in my life. I have just started college (I'm from England, by the way) this year and there has been so much crap I have needed to do to prepare for...well...to prepare for life, really.
> 
> Once again, really really sorry about the delay, hope you don't hate me :)
> 
> All comments are appreciated, just no hate mail

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Fanfic, so I am sorry if it is terrible. Can people give me advice on how to improve. you can be tough, but not too harsh.  
> Exams are coming up, so I might not update as often as I would like


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